<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Small Victories by annaxmims</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509536">Small Victories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaxmims/pseuds/annaxmims'>annaxmims</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tumblr Prompts [71]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Lung Cancer, Mentions of Cancer, Sick Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:20:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaxmims/pseuds/annaxmims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: </p><p>Could you write sth with Owen struggling with chemo (feeling really nauseated and weak) and TK being worried but supportive?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Owen Strand &amp; TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tumblr Prompts [71]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Small Victories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Dad? I’m home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>TK left the grocery bag on the counter and padded into the hallway. The light was on in the bathroom and TK knocked softly on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>TK left him alone and wandered back into the kitchen. As he started unpacking the groceries his phone chimed with a text.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From Carlos: I hope your dad likes the soup</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Carlos: I’m sure he will. Thanks for the recipe</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From Carlos: No problem baby. You sure you don’t want me to come over and help</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Carlos: No it’s okay</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From Carlos: Okay, I’ll let you get to work. See you tomorrow?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Carlos: Yes. Love you</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From Carlos: Love you too</span>
</p><p>
  <span>TK sat his phone back down on the counter and turned on some soft music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha making?” Owen asked as he exited the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TK I don’t know if I can eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You at least need to try. Carlos sent me the recipe. His mom used to make it for him when he was sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>TK finished adding the vegetables and put a lid on the pot. He left it to finish cooking and went to check on his dad in the living room. Owen was laid across the couch, watching tv on a low volume. TK took a seat on the floor, leaning his head on the cushion. Owen’s hand found his head, rubbing his hair gently like he used to do when he was small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like shit, but I’ve felt shittier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>TK nodded solemnly. He hated seeing his dad like this. The child in him still saw his dad as a superhero, he was untouchable, invincible. But the adult in him knew that wasn’t true. His dad was suffering and in pain. He would have done anything to make that pain stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay kiddo?” Even though he was well into his twenties, his dad still called him kiddo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I guess. This just sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah you’re telling me. But you said it yourself, we’re gonna kick the crap out of this. You and me. Me being sick means the chemo is doing its job. The mass is shrinking, we’re gonna be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna be okay,” TK agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone timer beeped and he stood, going into the kitchen to check on the soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It smells good,” his dad commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks good. I think it’s ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He retrieved two bowls from the cabinet and spooned some soup into both. He placed the two bowls on the coffee table, along with two bottles of water and his dad’s medicine. He grabbed the tv remote and flipped over to Disney+. He turned on Winnie the Pooh and his dad grinned at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always used to want to watch this when you were sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It worked back then, I figured why not give it a shot now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen bumped his shoulder against his son’s and blew carefully on a spoonful of soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is good,” he praised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Carlos’ mom’s recipe. Everything she makes is good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen nodded his agreement and took another bite. He managed to finish half of his bowl, which they both counted as a victory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When TK noticed him nodding off, he helped him up from the couch and led him down the hall to his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night dad,” he whispered as he turned off the light. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too kiddo.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>